Loaded Gun
by 1alucard1
Summary: Destiny lives, and Peter & Roman finally address that thing they've never talked about. A season 3 fix-it, because I couldn't bear the real version of events. (originally published on AO3)
1. Chapter 1

_Roman spat out a mouthful of blood and looked up at her. Destiny saw no emotion in his eyes, no trace of Peter's best friend. In that moment, he was more upir than she had ever seen him before. It took her only a split-second to realize that she'd made a terrible mistake. She saw the fatal coming as if in slow motion, but she was frozen, unable to move, trapped in a nightmare. She tasted the cold copper of blood in the back of her throat even before her head impacted painfully on the glass table. Destiny felt, with perfect clarity, the agony of a thousand tiny glass fragments embedding themselves in her skull. Dazed, she felt Roman's soft touch on her face. In spite of what had just happened, it took her completely by surprise when he suddenly snapped her head to the side. After that, there was only darkness._

Destiny stared at the flames in the small pot for a long time. Even after the fire had long burned down, she still sat frozen in her chair. She had seen pretty violent visions before. She had seen many things which she was unable to accept as truth at the time. But this? Roman killing her? It seemed such a fantastical notion that she could not wrap her head around it.

Sure, she had always known that upirs were dangerous and could not be trusted. Yet, this one had proven time and again that he cared deeply for Peter, that he strived to be better than his nature. Destiny could not match her image of Roman with what she had just seen.

Slowly, the conversation preceding Roman's actions came back to her. Tears ran down her face as she thought about the extent of Peter's betrayal. It was as if she had lost Andreas and Peter both. There was no comfort left for her.

Peter stood in front of the door to Destiny's apartment, bracing himself for what he knew had to happen next. After finding his courage, he opened the door and called out softly, "Destiny?". Only silence greeted him. Then, he saw Destiny sitting at the table, staring at a small bowl, deep in thought.

He could see that she had been crying again and a stab of guilt tore at his heart, weakening his resolve to come clean with her. Peter approached her slowly, fighting the urge to bolt from the room every step of the way. Deep down, he knew that it was only a matter of time. She was curious and stubborn by nature and he knew that she would not let it go. Running away now would only postpone the inevitable, yet his mind continued to scream at him to just get the hell out of there and think up a better story than the truth.

He stopped a few steps away from her, filled with indecision. After what seemed like a small eternity, Destiny looked up at him. Peter drew in a sharp breath. The hurt in her eyes ran deep and cut him to the bone. He dropped to his knees and the words just starting pouring out from him in a rush.

After a long time, he realized that he had finished telling his story at some point and was just repeating, "I am sorry. I am so sorry. Please forgive." over and over. He also realized with a start that Destiny had put her hands on his head and leaned forward so that their foreheads were touching. Peter stopped talking and they just sat there together, sobbing.

It seemed like hours later to Destiny when she came slowly back to herself and looked around. Somehow, they had ended up cowering on the floor together. Suddenly the memory of Roman, spitting out blood and looking at her with murder in his eyes was very clear in her mind. She pulled back a little and caught Peter's eye.

"You have to go to Roman. He needs your help. Badly."

Peter, exhausted from the release of his pent-up emotions, wasn't sure if he had heard her correctly.

"What?"

"You need to help Roman."

"I ... with what? Where is this even coming from?"

"Trust me. You have to go to him before it's too late."

Peter was drowsy and felt more like having a good night's sleep than a heart-to-heart with an upir. He was about to say so when the look in Destiny's eyes stopped him short. He realized that he didn't stand a chance. With a deep sigh, he got up and walked to the door. He already had the handle in hand when he remembered that he still didn't have the faintest idea what this was about.

"Help him with what?"

"Help him remember who he is."

Peter waited but it seemed that cryptic statement was all she had to say on the topic. With a shrug, he went on his way.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Platonic love: Two people playing with a gun, thinking it isn't loaded."_

Peter was still a little dazed on the drive to Roman's.

 _Help him remember who he is._

Fan-friggin-tastic. As if he didn't have enough things to deal with already. Yet it had seemed vital to Destiny that should go at once and help Roman on a journey of self-discovery. Or whatever. So, who is he? _My best friend_ was the first thought that shot into his mind. Scratch that. The upir was his _only_ friend. He could see clearly now that Andreas and the other gypsies had never been his friends.

 _Maybe two people can be a pack._ The random thought seemed weird at first but he bounced it around in his head and came to the conclusion that he quite liked it. _Me and Roman against the world._ He admitted to himself that in the drama his life had become he might have neglected the upir a little. He decided to make up for it somehow. All of a sudden, he remembered himself and Roman, sitting in his car, smoking, laughing. God, how he missed those days. The easy companionship they had shared, the strange chemistry between them, unlike anything he had ever experienced with another human being. _No_ , he corrected himself, _nothing I have ever experienced with_ a _human being._

When had it all gone to shit? It was difficult to put his finger on an exact moment. It looked like things were just progressing from bad to worse every day of their lives. He wondered what the hell had gotten into Destiny. She had never been particularly fond of the upir. It was very out of character for her to just send him over there, especially since they had been in the middle of something themselves. Peter sighted and put the thought out of his mind.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the liqueur store on the other side of the road and stepped on the brakes. _That's it._ he thought. I'll get some nice whiskey and we'll take an evening off from the shit storm that our lives have become. He grinned at the thought of just hanging around with Roman like in the old days. It gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Maybe it was time that he took action against the downward turn his life had taken. God knew, a lot of it was his own damn fault. He resolved not to think about the drama and the battles still ahead and, at least for this one evening, just have a good time with his best friend for once.

Roman sat on his couch, a glass of whiskey in one hand, staring into the distance. In his mind, the day's events replayed on a loop. The shooting, the strange sensation of seeing somebody else's thoughts in his mind, the fight he'd had with Annie before she'd stormed out.

They had a chance now. They could track Spivak down using the images from the dead man's head. He'd find Nadia and Miranda. It was not too late. A noise at the front door interrupted his thoughts. He tensed before he realized that it was just Peter using his key to enter the house. Roman noticed that he had jumped up halfway from the couch and sat down again, forcing his muscles to relax. For weeks now he had been feeling more and more restless and on edge, but it seemed the shooting at the office had given his frayed nerves the final push to shatter completely.

Peter came in and, seeing the upir on the couch, gave him a broad smile. A strange sensation spread in Roman's stomach and he couldn't help but smile back.

"Well, somebody is awfully chipper today."

Peter dropped on the couch next to Roman with an audible thud.

"Yeah, you know I thought we could take the evening off. No drama. Just drinks."

He lifted the bottle of whiskey suggestively.

"But I see you already started the fun without me.", he added, looking at the drink in Roman's hand.

"Bad day at the office", Roman grunted.

"Do tell."

"What happened to your 'no drama' policy?"

"I've had enough of my drama. Distract me with your problems."

Peter grinned again and got up to get himself a glass. When he had dropped down on the couch again and propped his feet up on the table, he made a gesture for Roman to continue his story. Roman gave Peter's feet on his table a disapproving glare but then decided that he actually didn't give a flying fuck.

"Well, to start, I was almost gunned down today."

"Sheee-it."

"Yup. Spivak got to one of my employees with some mind control bullshit and made him start a blood bath in the board meeting. Only me and Pryce got out alive."

Peter sat up suddenly, the relaxation gone from his voice.

"Did you get any information on Spivak from him?"

"A guard shot him down before we could question him. But Pryce did some of his tech mojo and we extracted some of his thoughts. We could see him being carried by Spivak back to his hide-out. At least, we think that's what it shows. Blinsky is running some software thing to pin the location down as we speak."

Peter gave him another smile. While the others had seemed a little forced, this one was the real deal. It did more funny things to Roman's stomach that he refused to think about.

"That's great news! Finally a real clue that can actually get us closer to Nadia and Miranda."

Peter raised his glass.

"To Pryce's tech mojo!"

Roman gave a startled half-giggle and raised his almost empty glass as well. "To Pryce's tech mojo!", he agreed.

"Another thing", Peter said. Roman looked at him expectantly.

"Who the hell is Blinsky?"


	3. Chapter 3

_This_ , Roman thought happily, _This is exactly what I've been missing._ He had moved on from a little tipsy to properly drunk a while ago. He was leaning against Peter on the couch, his feet propped up on the table next to his, his eyes half-closed. Suddenly, he remembered something that seemed of vital importance to tell Peter.

"You know what's funny?"

Peter turned and looked at him. "Your face?", he dead-panned. They both broke out in giggles.

"Nooo. When I was little I always fantasized about being a werewolf."

"For real?"

"Yup. I saw one of the werewolf movies, can't remember which 'n I thought if I could turn into a wolf 'n run free in the woods, I could like join a pack and nobody would care that my father was dead 'n that my family was weird. I'd be the pack leader, of course. And me and my pack would just run in the forest and eat rabbits and kill deer 'n shit. And I wouldn't be alone ever again."

"Hmm." Peter said thoughtfully.

"So, when you were little, did you already turn? Were you like an adorable tiny wolf cub?" Roman imitated wolf cub cooing noises.

"Naah. That'd be weird. Y'know, when I was little I wanted to be a dragon."

"Hmmm. Why?"

"Y'know 'cause dragons are all wise and shit but when somebody pisses them off, they just go 'Roaaaar' and burn down the fucking village. Nobody messes with dragons. They're respected and king of their territory."

"You mean dragons are for real?"

Peter raised an eyebrow at his friend. "No, dragons are not for real, dumbass."

Roman looked indignant for a moment but then smiled. "Shame."

"Eh, dunno. 'm sure we'd founda way to make one mad at us if they 'xisted. Seems to be our thing."

"True." Roman leaned back on the couch, sighing. "When did it all go to shit?"

"No idea. Probably 's all your fault. 'was just doing fine before I met you." Peter turned around grinning and saw a deeply hurt look in Roman's eyes before the upir hid it behind an all too familiar mask. "Jesus, Roman. 'm joking. I screwed up just as bad as you. Maybe worse, recently."

Roman was still giving him the blank mask. Which was quite an impressive feat, given his state of non-sobriety.

For some reason, Peter suddenly felt that it was of vital importance that he made this abundantly clear to Roman, It felt almost like a premonition.

He looked Roman in the eye and put both of hands on either side of Roman's face for emphasis. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

"Listen up, Roman. If it hadn't been for you things would have been much worse, much sooner. You've helped me and defended me every step of the way and I've been a lousy friend. I've abandoned you and just came to you whenever I needed something. I'm sorry. You deserve better." _Whoa. Where had all of that come from?_ Peter dropped his hands and leaned back, surprised at his outburst.

When he looked up again to apologize for the emotional outpour, he saw that Roman was looking at him wide-eyed. Peter closed his mouth again in surprise.

"Peter." Roman seemed to almost choke on the word. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you." He sounded completely sober again. Peter saw that the upir's hand holding the whiskey glass was shaking badly.

Roman took a deep breath. He put the glass down and sat up straight. He put the palms of his hands together in front of his mouth and exhaled slowly, bracing himself. Peter could feel the tension radiating off of him.

They sat like this in silence for a while until it become too much for Peter. Just when he was about to break the silence, Roman started talking slowly. He was pointedly not looking at Peter, staring straight ahead.

"You know how I can influence people sometimes, right? Like, command them to do what I want?" Peter nodded, and then realized that Roman couldn't see it. The upir continued anyway. "My mother used her power on me somehow. She made me do something. Planted the suggestion in my head. You have to believe me that I didn't know what I was doing. I only found out afterwards." Peter's question was almost a whisper "What did you do?"

"You remember how Letha thought Nadia's father was an angel?" Roman's voice had died down to a whisper as well. Peter felt cold ice run down his spine. _No._. He wanted to ask Roman to just stop talking but no words came out.

Roman's heart beat was racing and his breath was coming is short gasps. He was sure that he was putting everything on the line. He had a sudden vision of Peter walking out and never coming back. The thought was almost overwhelming. He wasn't sure if he could bear that again. But there was nothing for it. He had to pull through and see what was left of the friendship when he was done.

"It was me." The words were barely a whisper but Peter's acute hearing picked them up anyway. "I'm Nadia's father." With an effort of will, Roman continued talking. "And do you want to know the kicker of this story?" _No._ , Peter thought again. He definitely did not want to hear the kicker of this story. "Turns out, Norman was my father.

He took a deep breath and almost spat out, "Letha was my half-sister."

Finally, he turned to Peter, trying to gauge the other's reaction. "How's that for fucked up, huh?"

Peter raised his hand in a gesture that clearly communicated _I can't deal with this right now_ and jumped up from the couch. He paced back and forth for a couple of seconds, mussing up his hair with his hands without even noticing. Finally, he stopped in front of Roman and raised his hand as if he was about to start speaking, but in the end he couldn't speak. Without a word, he stormed out of the front door.

Peter sat down behind the wheel of his car and took a deep breath. How did he think this would be a good idea? Everything he touched at the moment turned to shit. _I'm the motherfucking gypsy Midas_ , he thought bitterly. All of a sudden, he was angry. He started hitting the steering wheel with ferocity, cursing loudly. Then he jumped out of the car and kicked the side of it for good measure. His anger deflated as suddenly as it had appeared.

 _Fuck._ He tried to think rationally. He knew that Roman had loved Letha and would never have willingly hurt her. He knew that the compulsion to obey an upir using his power was overwhelming. Back then, Roman had the potential, but he was not an upir yet, whereas his mother had already been very powerful. All of these things made sense, yet he couldn't help feeling betrayed.

He was distracted in his thoughts by a loud crash. Weary, Peter slowly made his way back toward the house.

When he stormed out, he had left the door ajar and through the gap he could see the glass table in the living room. It was turned over and in shambles. He saw no sign of Roman.

For the second time that day, he was filled with indecision. Again, his instinct was just to bolt and not look back.

With a heavy sigh, he admitted to himself that acting against his instinct had turned out for the best earlier and opened the door all the way. He spotted Roman in the corner, just as the upir punched the wall with full force. Roman cursed loudly and turned around, shaking his hand. Peter noted that a sizeable chunk of wall had evaporated. Even though he had seen it in action many times, he was still taken by surprise by the upir's strength.

Roman was staring at him dumbly, still shaking his bleeding hand. Peter cleared his throat.

"Um, listen, Roman." Peter tried very hard to find the right words, he did not want to fuck this up as well. "I'm sorry I just ran out. I'm gonna need some time to process … this." He gestured vaguely around. "I know it wasn't your fault. But I … just … okay?" So much for finding the right words.

Roman gave a small nod and Peter returned the gesture. Then he turned around and calmly left the house.


	4. Chapter 4

Roman stood in his kitchen and marvelled at how much difference six weeks could make.

They had finally freed Nadia. After all the time they had spent tracking Spivak down, the confrontation had seemed almost anticlimactic. All it had taken in the end was a bite.

On another happy note, his mother was dead. She had gone out in a blaze of glory, taking Annie with her. Roman was still unsure how he felt about that. He didn't have a lot of time to get to know her and even after her death he couldn't help but be pissed that she never mentioned that she was his half-sister. His feelings about his mother's death, on the other hand, were unconflicted. It was a cause for celebration, simple as that.

Pryce had a brush with death as well. One of the people he had experimented on stabbed him in his lab and almost killed him. Roman was told that it had been touch and go for a while but in the end he pulled through. Blinsky had visited the upir just a day ago, begging that he talk some sense into Pryce who apparently refused to take a rest and was already running things again from his hospital bed. As if the man ever listened to him.

He was still unsure how he felt about Shelley's situation. He was happy for her, happy that she had fallen in love for the first time, but the guy was way too old for her. He would have told her so, hadn't it been for the fact that he really was the last person to be judging people on their choice of partners. He sighed. Well, if she was happy who was he to interfere.

He was drawn from his retrospective by the sound of laughter from the living room. He looked over and saw Peter throwing Nadia in the air and catching her. She was making little squeaks of delight. Roman was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of deep affection. Towards his daughter but also … no, he wasn't thinking about that.

He walked over, then realized that he had actually forgotten the bottle he'd been preparing in the kitchen. He turned around to retrieve it, trying to clear his thoughts. When he came back, Peter snatched the bottle from his hand and grinned at him happily and Roman could feel the same sensation as before, even more intense.

"So." Roman tried to sound casual and failed miserably. "How about we let the nanny take care of Nadia tonight and have a drink?"

It sounded like an innocent question but neither of them was fooled. They both knew that what he was actually asking was _Are we cool?_ In the last couple of weeks, Roman had invited Peter for drinks twice and had been turned down politely both times.

"Sure." Peter said after a moment's hesitation. Roman let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"How about we meet at my place?", Peter added, "Then we don't have to worry about waking Nadia up." When he said her name, he looked at the baby lovingly.

Destiny had taken off for Europe almost six weeks ago. Peter, much to Roman's chagrin, had decided to move back in to her place and house-sit it in her absence. However, recently he started to spend more and more time at Roman's , taking care of Nadia or simply talking to the upir. Peter had stayed over a couple of nights as well and some of his things had magically reappeared in Roman's house. The upir was convinced that it was only a matter of time before Peter would move back in. The thought made him unreasonably happy.

"Makes sense. It's a date." Roman grinned wickedly at Peter, who answered with a bemused raise of one eyebrow.

"Do I want to know what I've just gotten myself into?"

The upir just grinned at him in reply.

Roman stood in front of the door to Destiny's apartment, feeling nervous.

 _Don't be stupid_ , he thought, _you're just meeting a good friend for drinks, that's all._

He had a bottle of very nice whiskey in one hand and a joint in his pocket. The whiskey was actually much too nice to get drunk with, but Roman couldn't care less.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Peter opened it almost immediately, as if he had been waiting on the other side. His hair was all mussed up like he had just awoken from a nap. Roman felt a strange sensation at the sight, butterflies tumbling over each other in his stomach and a weird longing, very different from the blood lust that was his constant companion.

"Hey", he said lamely.

Peter grinned up at him and stepped aside to let him in.

Peter exhaled slowly and enjoyed the feeling of happy fuzziness. There was something important he had meant to ask Roman, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Ah, yes.

"How's Pryce? The last time I saw him, he said we should bring Nadia by as soon as possible for a check-up due to her 'lineage'" He made little air quotes with his fingers on the last word. Roman cringed at the reminder of their fight. "But that was before the whole stabbing thing. Is he back already?"

"He's actually recuperating at some resort with his boyfriend. He wanted to come back to work but Blinsky had some meltdown and refused to work with him if he didn't take better care of himself. Pryce fired Blinsky on the spot, naturally, but I hired him back and told Pryce to get the fuck out until he's recovered."

"Huh", Peter said, "I didn't know he was gay." The remark sat between them like a 500 pound Gorilla scratching its chin. An awkward silence followed. Roman said the first thing that came to his mind.

"You know he once told me that it's strange that you and I are friends." There was an almost imperceptible pause before he continued. "And asked me if we were more than friends." Roman made a nervous sound halfway between a laugh and a giggle. "Silly, huh?"

Peter turned and looked at his friend. _There it is_ , he thought dazedly. The thing they had somehow, somewhere along the line, agreed silently to never talk about. Just like that it was out in the open. He wondered briefly if Roman really was clueless about the whole thing. He had caught the upir staring at him with an expression that showed something decidedly different than just friendship more than once. In the beginning, he had put it down to blood lust, maybe werewolves just smelled especially tasty to upirs or some such shit. But after a while he had begun to wonder. Roman had saved his life on more than one occasion and it sometimes seemed to him that there was nothing the upir wasn't willing to do or risk for him. And there was the way Roman looked at him after a change, like he was the most precious thing in the world.

In his heart of hearts, though, he had always been certain that the upir would never act on his feelings. It seemed that something in their deep connection scared Roman. Well, maybe not just Roman, he admitted grudgingly to himself. It was not like he had been very outspoken on the topic either. And now the upir had just put on the table. Admittedly in a way that left some wiggle room for him to back down again. Maybe it was a fatal combination of weed and alcohol, but Peter was suddenly feeling bolt.

"Did you ever want to be?"

Roman stared at him wide-eyed.

"What?"

Peter looked him straight in the eye, thinking _This is not that hard. I can do this._ "Did you ever want to be", there was a pause lasting a heartbeat, "more than friends?"

Roman just continued staring at him, very much like a deer caught in the headlights. Peter almost laughed. They spent a night together with Miranda having sex, for God's sake. It should not be that hard to talk about this. He managed to suppress the laughter, certain that it would have ruined any chance to actually have this conversation. He continued to look at Roman expectantly, ignoring the plea in the other man's eyes to just drop it.

Roman croaked something that might have, with a lot of good will, been a yes.

Peter felt an intense thrill run through him like he had only ever experienced before when hunting in his wolf form. His eyes strayed down to Roman's lips and back up again. He could see that the upir had caught the gesture. Peter was giddy with excitement. _Now or never_.

He leaned forward slowly, giving Roman ample chance to protest or pull back. He did neither, remaining frozen in place.

The kiss was awkward, like first kisses always are. The angle was weird and their noses bumped slightly. It was the barest brush of lips and then Peter pulled back, trying to gauge Roman's reaction. The upir's eyes were closed and he was looking enthralled.

After a couple of seconds, Roman opened his eyes and looked at him wonderingly. Peter smiled at him and leaned forward for a second kiss. This one lasted much longer, but it was still very hesitant, almost chaste. Peter, still feeling bolt, put his right hand in Roman's neck, holding the other man steady.

It was very different from what Peter had imagined. When he had fantasized about this, and before today he would never, not even under torture, have admitted that he had indeed fantasized about it, their first kiss was passionate, wild, almost violent. A clash of teeth, biting, growling. Crashing through furniture, smashing against walls. He had expected a feral fight for dominance.

Instead, Roman was hesitant, unsure, gentle. He melted away under Peter's hands. From the first minute, the werewolf realized that there would be no fight for leadership here.

So he led, and Roman followed.


	5. Chapter 5

Roman woke up slowly, feeling disoriented. Then the memory of the previous night came back suddenly and he sat up with a start. He looked around and realized he was still in Peter's bedroom. In bed. Naked. Next to Peter. Who was also, as far as he could tell, naked. Roman drew both of his hands through his hair slowly, trying to compose himself. _So that really happened._

He looked over at Peter who was still fast asleep, lying on his side, facing the upir. He was only half-covered by a thin blanket. Roman lay back down slowly and studied his friend. He was hit by the random thought that Peter had an unexpectedly low amount of body hair for a werewolf. Not that he was complaining. Before he even realized what he was doing, he had put his hand on Peter's chest, running it through the soft curls.

Peter made a soft grunt and opened one eye. Roman withdrew his hand instantly.

Peter grumbled something like 'yushuphojen'. Roman narrowed his eyes. "What?"

The werewolf groaned and sat up. "The nanny."

"Huh?" Roman responded stupidly.

Peter rolled his eyes.

"You should call Jennifer. You know, the woman taking care of Nadia? Or did you tell her that you would be out all night?"

Realization dawned on Roman's face. "Fuck!" He jumped up and started searching for his phone in the pile of clothes scattered on the floor.

Peter was suddenly fully awake, admiring the view. He couldn't remember ever thinking of another guy as beautiful before, but Roman definitely was beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Even rifling through a pile of clothes, cursing under his breath, he still looked like some Greek God sculptured out of marble.

The upir found his phone and made the call. He started pacing the room while he talked. At one point, he turned around suddenly and caught Peter staring at his ass. Roman cocked an eyebrow at the werewolf. Peter stared back nonchalantly.

Roman hung up the phone and gave Peter a look. It was his trademarked cocky, bad boy, come hither look. Peter wasn't fooled. He'd seen the real Roman last night and knew that this was just one of his masks. Still, if the upir was more comfortable with this, he could play along. He looked up at Roman, all innocence.

Roman advanced on the bed slowly, growling quietly. When he reached the bed, he shoved Peter backwards and jumped on top of him, placing a hand next to the werewolf on each side, pinning him to the bed. Peter couldn't stop himself from grinning. Roman responded with a low growl.

"I'm gonna wipe that grin of your face.", the upir hissed at him.

Belying his harsh words, Roman slowly kissed his way down Peter's body, running his hands over the werewolf's stomach at the same time. Now it was Peter's turn to growl. Roman made a satisfied hum.

Peter was learning all kinds of new things about his friend. For example, he wouldn't have thought that Roman was the kind of guy that's much into foreplay, but boy had he turned out to be wrong on that one.

The upir suddenly stopped and Peter looked up to see what was wrong. Roman was looking at him, clearly asking for permission for something. Ah. Peter suddenly remembered something his grandfather used to say. He was too little at the time to fully get it, but now it came back into his mind. It was something about not trusting a cop, never lending anything to a gypsy and never, ever, getting a blow job from an upir.

He considered. Without wanting to, he wondered when Roman had last eaten. Did he trust that his friend was that much in control of his true nature? He could see the look of devoted eagerness on the upir's face turn into a hurt expression. Probably he had been able to read something of Peter's thoughts on his face.

Finally making up his mind, Peter smiled reassuringly at the other man and gave a small nod. Roman grinned like the cat about to eat the canary and went down on him.

The last thing Peter wondered, before coherent thought left him completely, was if Roman had done his jaw unhinging trick after all, because whatever he was doing, it was certainly some superhuman feat.


	6. Chapter 6

Roman leaped over a fallen tree at full throttle, crashing through the underbrush on the other side. He lost his footing, made a less than elegant roll and was back to running at full speed within a split-second. From somewhere to his left, he could hear the howling of a wolf. Before now, he would have said it's impossible for a wolf to howl mockingly, but apparently he had been wrong.

He was bare-footed and shirtless, only wearing a pair of black jeans. If somebody had told him a month ago that some day he would be running through the forest half-naked in the middle of the night just for the fun of it, he would have laughed his ass off.

He adjusted his direction slightly, hunting after the sound of the wolf's laughter. He was pretty sure that's what it was.

Peter obviously had the advantage, and when they did this in reverse, he almost always caught him. But Roman would be damned if he didn't catch the werewolf at least once and today was the day. He sped up even more, crashing through the forest at inhuman speed. He grinned, enjoying the rush of the fresh air, the feeling of the leaves under his feet and the joy of hunting.

For the first time in his life, his mind was completely free of worry, of the constant fight against his nature, the endless struggle every minute, every hour, every day. There was just him and the wolf and the wild and the world was endless.


	7. Chapter 7

Roman put down his suit case and rubbed his eyes. The day had been an endless agglomeration of meeting after meeting after meeting. He was pretty certain by now that purgatory was a never-ending board meeting. Probably about the efficiency of hell's heating system. Or something.

He sighed and turned to walk to the kitchen when he noticed something glittering on the living room table. He stepped around the big glass plate and gingerly picked up a lonely glass of champagne. In the middle of it, he spotted what could only be an engagement ring. His breathing stopped.

For some reason, he felt scared. He suddenly had a vision of how his life could have turned out if things had gone only a little differently. If he had never met Peter. If he hadn't been able to overcome his instincts. A world in which there was no Nadia, no hope, no nothing. Where he was just a bloodsucking monster damned to eternal life.

Strong arms closed around him from behind and he started breathing again. Peter rested his chin on the upir's shoulder and snuggled up close.

 _Wait a minute_ , Roman thought, _How is he doing that?_

He looked behind him and saw that Peter was standing on some sort of crate, allowing him to be on eye-level with the taller man for once. Roman felt like giggling.

"Not a word", Peter whispered threateningly in his ear.

"Unless the word is yes", the werewolf amended after a moment.

Roman looked up, met Peter's eyes and smiled.

"Yes", he said simply.


	8. Chapter 8

Roman put the bowl of cereal down on the table and hovered about, uncertain. Nadia looked up at him with a bored look familiar to the parents of teenagers around the world.

"Spit it out."

"Huh?" Roman said, clearly disrupted in the middle of a thought.

"Your face says 'We need to talk'. I know that look. Spit it out, father."

Nadia had taken, very early, to calling Roman father and Peter dad. Sometimes, Roman felt a little jealous of their relationship. He was Nadia's biological father, yet she seemed to connect more with Peter. He was certain that she loved him, just as he loved her, but their interactions had always been a little colder, a little more reserved than her relationship with Peter. Roman had put it down to the differences in their nature, Peter was just warmer, more approachable, cuddlier. It was one of the things he loved about him. Still, in his lesser moments, he felt like the two of them shared a special bond that he was not part of.

"We need to talk", he said distractedly. Nadia smiled at him and Roman immediately thought how silly his worries were. His daughter loved him, that was what mattered.

"Um", he said. He had given the topic a lot of thought. He did have a battle plan of how to introduce the issue, but now he just drew a blank. Roman realized he'd much rather give a presentation to the entire board than broach this topic with his daughter. He looked at Peter helplessly.

Nadia narrowed her eyes. "You're not trying to have 'the talk' with me, are you? Because let me tell you, there is this thing called the internet where I can look up anything I might ever want or need to know and we can save ourselves the awkwardness."

Roman took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. "No, that's not what we need to talk about. There is something of a 'family secret' that we need to share with you."

"Is it that dad turns into a wolf at every full moon?" She grinned at the shocked expression from her parents, and added, "You know, you two are not the great secret keepers you think you are."

Roman looked over at Peter. "Well, yeah, that's not it, either. That's a conversation for another day." He hesitated, then went on, "It's about me. And your heritage."

Nadia was suddenly very attentive, every trace of boredom gone from her face. "Tell me."

Roman rubbed his temple. "Have you ever noticed a …", he gesticulated with his hands, clearly at a loss for words, "a desire, a craving, a hunger when you saw blood?"

Nadia made a disgusted face. "Are you trying to tell me that you have a blood kink? Because honesty is great and all, but there are some things I really don't need to know. Yuck."

Peter leaned his elbows on the table and looked at her seriously. "Don't deflect. Did you ever think about drinking blood?"

Nadia looked back and forth between them, realization dawning on her face. "Are you telling me, that not only are you a _werewolf_ , but father is an honest to God vampire?" She jumped up from her chair in excitement. "And I'm a vampire too? It's hereditary?"

Roman sighed. "We're called upirs. And no, you're not an upir. Yet. But you have the potential. And a hunger for blood is a side effect of that."

Nadia started pacing back and forth, thinking aloud. "Last week, in chem class, Jace cut himself on a piece of glass and when I saw it I had this strange feeling, but I didn't really know what it was." She stopped pacing and put her fingers on her gums above her incisors. "Do I have hidden fangs that can, like, pop out?"

She stopped short in her exited babbling and the disgusted look returned to her face. "Will I have to bite people? I don't wanna bite people."

Roman knelt down in front of her and put his hands on her arms. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Whatever happens, always remember that you are in control. Your nature doesn't define who you are. You define who you are."

Roman pulled back and sat down at the table slowly. "You have a choice and even though I have a strong preference about which is the better road to take, it is still your choice to make. There are advantages to being an upir. We can live very, very long lives. We're very tough to kill. We don't age. Our strength and speed far surpass that of any human." He paused. "But all of this comes at a terrible price. An insatiable hunger for blood. It can guide your every thought and push you to become somebody you hardly recognize." He looked at Peter. "And if there is nobody to help you, the darkness can consume you. I want you to know that whatever happens, you can always talk to Peter and me. We will support you, no matter what."

Peter, who was standing closeby, put a supporting hand on his husband's shoulder. Roman took a deep breath, then continued. "If I could go back, if I could change what happened to me, I would. It's not worth it. Every day I struggle with the hunger, with the urge to hunt … to kill. I would never want this life for you."

Nadia looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. Then, she stepped forward and held her father in a tight embrace. Roman was surprised at first, then he smiled and hugged his daughter back.


	9. Chapter 9

"Are you certain about this?" Pryce asked.

Roman looked up at the scientist. Pryce looked old, yes, but somehow more alive, more happy, then he had ever seen him. Ever since he had decided that there was room in his life for more than science, he had steadily grown more content. Only last week, he had performed a small drum concert for his friends. Roman had been quite impressed. The man certainly was a genius.

"I have said this before, but let me make it absolutely clear to you. After the procedure is done, there is no going back. It took me a long time to develop this process that would work even after you so carelessly aborted the first one. But the same rules still apply: Once you're done, you will be completely human and there is no going back. So, let me ask you one more time, are you certain this is what you want?"

Roman looked over at Peter, who smiled at him reassuringly. The first streaks of grey were showing in the werewolf's hair. Roman contemplated a world without him. A world where he watched Peter wither away and die. A world where he went on without him, eternally young, eternally unchanging. The thought was unbearable. There was not a trace of doubt in his mind.

He nodded at Pryce, then lay back down on the bed. He closed his eyes and envisioned being human.

They thought of mortality held no terror for him, only comfort. He would live one life time and he would make it count. He would be the best husband and father it was in his possibility to be.

 _You do not define me_ , he thought fervently at his upir side, in his mind forever represented by the face of his mother. _I define who I am._


End file.
